Murder - or is it?

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Murder – or is it?

        New years Eve, 1938.  And there I was, on an extensive boat, the Rhine Maiden, owned by one Iain Masque.  The same Iain Masque that sent me a mysterious letter, inviting me to celebrate the coming of 1939 with him and his ‘well selected’ (or so the invitation said!) guests.  But why does Mr. Masque want me, a private investigator at an event like this?

        Anyway, I was there now, so I thought I’d better try and make some new acquaintances.  I noticed a young woman in a long scarlet dress.  As I walked towards her, I noticed large cavities, almost like caves, in the dark stone walls that made up the canyon in which the River Rhine laid, the river that the Rhine Maiden was afloat upon.  In the distance I could make out the silhouette of a huge château on the top of a mountain.  From all the way down there, it looked very eerie, like a large beast, sleeping.  

        So, back to the lady.  I walked forward and stopped about a foot in front of her.  Her sequin embroided dress glistened in the moonlight.  She then looked at me, almost quizzically, and spoke in a soft American accent.  

“You’re here.  I felt strangely alone on this ship.  Can I trust you?”

All of this was said as if she knew me.  Though I found this peculiar, it did make me feel like I had found a friend.

“Of course,” I replied kindly.

“Listen I’m parched.  Maybe you could get me a drink from the bar downstairs.”

“May I ask you a few questions beforehand ma’am?” I said.

“Certainly, and please, call me Ms. Burton.”

“Why… thank you,” I replied.

        When I had finished talking to Ms. Burton, I discovered that magician, Martin Urfe, was on the boat, and he seemed to a lot about me, possibly too much.  Burton also thought that Masque was a bit creepy.  

        I walked slowly away from the lady and advanced towards a well-groomed man in a green suit.  Before I had chance to speak, he jumped in the and said, “Enjoying our little cruise?  There has to be a batter way to spend the New Year.”

“Why come then?” I asked, not quite sure if I was being sarcastic.

“Look,” he started, quite sharply, which answered my question of whether I was being sarcastic, “I’m here for the same reason as everyone else is.  We all hope to make a deal with Masque.  You know what they say about hope?  Its one step removed from madness.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said in an offhand manner.

        I said goodbye quite abruptly, and told him I would probably see him later.  I strolled off in the direction of the door leading to the rest of the second floor, and the stairs leading to the ‘ground-floor’ of the boat, where I would get a drink for Ms. Burton.  As I walked, I contemplated what forest (that’s his name, Lord Forest) had said.  Was Ms. Burton up to something?  And who are these Brown and Pipe people?  

        I opened the door and crossed the threshold.  Maybe I‘ll find someone to help me answer my questions, and what do you expect?  I am a private investigator after all.

        It was a highly decorated landing with cupboards boasting some intricate

boxes.  To my right I saw a woman sat at a large wooden table, drinking wine.  

“Oh, another New Year’s reveller.  Have you found anything fun to do on this creepy boat?” she said, wiping some of the red wine off the peacock-blue dress she was wearing.  I immediately recognised her as the lady in the Times, Mrs. Birder

“No,” I replied, “ and… erm… why did you come here?  Did you want to get away from… everything?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to throw those ugly old rumours in my face?  I just simply had to leave the states.  I tell you, that senator’s wife would have killed him anyway, even if he wasn’t, friends with me.  And the chance to see Forest again was… inviting.”

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        When I had finished talking to Mrs. Birder, I realised she was the most interesting person I had ever met.  She told me of the way Forest used women and had completely lost, or spent, the whole of his family fortune.  Another thing that interested me; she seemed to know a lot about Masque.  Though, when she did speak about him, she sounded, almost frightened of him.  What she actually said was, “Have you seen the host’s castle?  More like a nightmare on a mountain, a madhouse built by a madman!” She went on to say, “But do you want ...

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